


Of whom shall I be afraid?

by HistoireEternelle



Series: The songs that rhythm our life [5]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Backstory, Homophobia, Homophobic scene, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin needs a hug, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, broken Andrés, they're back together but Andrés is not the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: At first, Martín had thought he was dreaming. He hadn’t really wanted to get his hopes up when they’d told him they were going to get Andrés. He had seen him get shot and die in the Mint. But here he was. And Martín had sunk to his knees when he had realized Andrés was really alive and back at his side, tears spilling from his eyes.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: The songs that rhythm our life [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774768
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	Of whom shall I be afraid?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired of saying I'm sorry, but this one is full of angst... again. So... sorry?
> 
> You can find the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NErEwqQ9--4)

Martín was lying on the bed, his eyes on the man sleeping beside him. He couldn’t believe he was here. He had spent the last year and a half thinking him dead, drinking himself stupid every single night. Not able to find sleep unless he passed out from the alcohol. When he was drunk, the nightmares wouldn’t find him. But now he was sober. He hadn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol since that day two months ago when Sergio and Raquel had stepped down the deck of their boat, Andrés wobbling between them.

At first, Martín had thought he was dreaming. He hadn’t really wanted to get his hopes up when they’d told him they were going to get Andrés. He had seen him get shot and die in the Mint. But here he was. And Martín had sunk to his knees when he had realized Andrés was really alive and back at his side, tears spilling from his eyes.

He had run to him, wanting to feel his soulmate in his arms after so long barely surviving the pain of losing him. But Andrés had recoiled at his movement, his hand gripping Raquel’s and half hiding behind her. And Martín had felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Sergio’s hands on his shoulders had grounded him in the present, his eyes pleading with him to remember what they talked about before he’d left with Raquel. Asking him silently to be patient. Raquel had led Andrés to the house, sending an apologetic look his way, but Sergio had stayed on the docks with him. And he had explained. Each word tearing at Martín’s heart. Anger rising with each piece crumbling from his heart. He had wanted to tear the world apart, to find that Alicia bitch and kill her slowly, painfully. He wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt Andrés. But a single phrase from Sergio had dried the well of rage flooding him instantly. Andrés needed him. 

So he had spent the next months painfully sober, looking after the love of his life. Andrés didn’t talk. That was one of the first things Martín learnt, but he would sing sometimes. He didn’t like to be touched, but if you were careful enough, he would let you guide him by the hand. 

It was the first time Andrés let him sleep in their bed and the first night he didn’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night. The first time Martín had climbed in the bed with him, Andrés had curled into the smallest ball possible, his knees to his chest, his arms around his head and he had cried. Martín had tried to reassure him, to calm him down, by placing a hand on his back, but Andrés had startled so violently at the touch, Martín had jerked his hand back as if the contact had burned him. So he had retired to the chair in the corner of his – their – room and had watched Andrés uncurl his body slowly and relax his muscles, sleep finding him rapidly. But of course it hadn’t lasted long. A few hours after he had fallen asleep, Andrés had started to thrash around in the bed, his legs trapped in the sheets, small whimpers leaving his lips constantly. Martín had tried to wake him up. His hands on Andrés’ shoulders, he had tried to reassure him, to calm him down, but nothing worked. Until Raquel bursted into the room and, understanding what was happening in the blink of an eye, she had crossed the room and took Andrés in her arms, whispering words Martín couldn’t hear and Andrés had finally calmed down. His eyes blinking open, a lost look on his face until he had recognized who was touching him so softly and, suddenly, he had crumbled in Raquel’s arms, sobs wrecking his body.

Martín had watched from his spot at the foot of the bed, tears streaming down his face, emotions warring in his heart. He was angry and hurt at not being able to be the one Andrés needed. Furious at the thought of his beautiful Andrés so broken. Sad beyond measure at the scene playing in front of him. 

Raquel had stayed the night in what should have been their bed, cradling Andrés’ body in her soft embrace, when it should have been Martín's arms reassuring him. He had watched silently from his chair when they had finally fallen asleep and he had felt shame. Shame at the jealousy he could feel eating at his heart. Shame at not being enough for Andrés. Shame at not being able to help his soulmate.

Day after day, the same scenario had played. Andrés would wake up at ungodly hours, his breath short with fear when he realized he was surrounded by darkness. Andrés didn’t like darkness anymore, he always kept a light on in the room and whoever was looking after him – usually Martín – would turn it off when he had fallen asleep. Every time he woke up in the middle of the night, after the first wave of panic, Andrés would turn the light on his bedside table on and breathe a sigh of relief. After a few days, he had stopped startling at the sight of somebody else with him in the room. But Raquel’s touch was the only one that wouldn’t send him in a full blown panic attack. 

Two months had passed like that and Martín had finally accepted the reality of his new life. Andrés was broken and Martín wasn’t enough to put him back together. Martín had to live with that new reality. He had accepted it, enjoying the small things, feeling his heart burst with love when Andrés would let him lead him to the kitchen or when he would look his way. He had accepted it all, until one day, Andrés had grabbed his hand. They had been sitting side by side on the beach, Andrés’ eyes had stayed focused on the ocean like he did every single day since he got to the island. But his fingers had intertwined with Martín’s and squeezed. It had been barely perceptible, but Martín’s eyes had filled with tears at the touch and they had spent the rest of the day together on the beach. When they’d got back to the house, the sun was setting and their family was waiting for them to eat. The smile on Raquel’s and Sergio’s lips when they saw their hands had illuminated the room. They’d seemed so happy for them. 

After the meal, Martín had led Andrés back to their room, helping him to shower, agony burning in his chest every time he saw the scars on his lover’s once perfect skin. He couldn’t see his ribs poking at his skin anymore, but the image of his wasted body the first time they stripped him down to shower was seared into his mind. Never again he had vowed at the time. 

When Andrés had been dry and in his pyjamas, Martín had been ready to retreat to his chair, leaving the spot beside Andrés to Raquel when she would have to come to calm him down. But this time, he felt Andrés’ hand on his wrist, stopping him. Turning around surprised, Martín had seen the silent plea in Andrés’ eyes and feeling as if his heart would burst with happiness, he had joined Andrés under the covers, the man immediately moving to curl into his embrace, his head buried in the crook of Martín’s neck, his lips against his skin. And Martín had felt like crying, he had closed his arms around Andrés’ body, loose enough not to scare him, but tight enough to reassure him. 

When Andrés rolled suddenly out of his embrace in the middle of the night, Martín woke up. Turning on his side he watched the man sleeping peacefully for the first time since they got him out of prison, Martín sighed. Slowly, careful not to wake him up, Martín brushed his fingers on Andrés’ forehead, pushing back the curls that had fallen there. They hadn’t been able to cut his hair since he got here and nobody bothered to do it while they had been torturing him. It was strange to see the man who used to be so proud of his looks with a head full of unruly dark curls almost falling to his shoulders. But Martín loved that new look on his lover and now, with his fingers buried in his hair, Martín smiled.

_  
I will go wherever you need me  
_ _ On the river of roses or rain  
_ _ I will follow the signs that you leave me  
_ _ The mysteries of joy and of pain  
_ _ I will search for light in the darkness  
_ _ Though I stumble through shadow and shade _

  
Since the moment they had met, they’d always been together. Martín had fallen in love with Andrés the moment he’d seen him, but knowing that Andrés was straight, he had made sure his friend would never find out about his feelings. They had had ups and downs during their years together. Andrés’ tendency to wed everything with a skirt had been the hardest on Martín. Seeing the man he loved marrying not only one but five different women had been heartbreaking every single time. But Andrés was his best friend, the love of his life and for him, Martín would endure whatever it took to stay at his side. 

Each time his marriage would fall through, Martín was here, ready to pick the pieces up and make Andrés whole again, hoping against all odds that it would be the last time and Andrés would realize that the only one always by his side, the only one who would never leave him no matter what, was Martín. But of course, it never went that way, Martín would spend months, sometimes even years, with Andrés all for himself, basking in the attention his friend would shower him with until he would find a new woman, fall in love with her, declare her the One and marry her. 

Every time Andrés would leave him, Martín would see the world in darker shades, the light of Andrés presence missing from his life. But thankfully, he never stayed away for too long, always coming back to him or sending a message so he could join him wherever he was. And every time, Martín had felt his heart burst at the thought of being as much indispensable to Andrés as Andrés was to Martín. 

_  
Oh if you are with me  
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid?  
_ _ Oh if you are with me  
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid  
_ _ Whom shall I be afraid? _

  
“I’m here, mi amor,” Martín breathed when Andrés whimpered in his sleep, his hand searching for something to hold on to. 

Without a single moment of hesitation, Martín grabbed it, and saw Andrés calm down instantly. He smiled when the man rolled back toward him, seeking the warmth of his body in his sleep. Martín couldn’t stop the single tear that left his eye when Andrés head finally rested on his bare chest, his arm slung carelessly across Martín’s waist, one of his legs between his. He kissed the crown of his head tenderly and heard Andrés sigh contentedly at the touch, his lips brushing his chest.

_  
You picked me up when I’ve fallen  
_ _ Driven the ghost from my door  
_ _ You have comforted in my sorrow  
_ _ Wiped my brow when I’ve been sick and sore  
_ _ You have shared in all my triumphs  
_ _ And bless the crops that we laid _

  
Andrés had always been his protector. From the moment they had met until the Mint, he had always protected Martín. They had spent their first night together talking about the best way to break into the jewelry store down the street. At first Martín had thought it had been a hypothetical conversation. But when he had heard, a few days later, about the heist, he had known that he had been an unknowing accomplice. He had wanted to be mad, but he had already been so in love with the man that when he had come to the sorry apartment he shared with his mother, he hadn’t had the strength to tell him to leave. He had known Andrés was a criminal but he couldn’t stop loving him. So he had followed him out of the house and never came back.

“Please, let’s go,” he had begged when he had heard his mother’s voice. 

The woman had been a monster. He would have left the apartment behind and never come back if it wasn’t for the amount of money needed to rent a new place in Buenos Aires. His job was barely enough to pay for college, he couldn’t afford to rent another place and living in the streets wasn’t something he wanted to do ever again. 

He had spent two years in the streets after his mother had seen him kiss a boy when he was 14. After two years trying to keep apparences at school and stealing to eat, Martín had come home and lied. He had told his mom it had been a fling, that he was normal now, that he didn’t like men anymore, and she had finally allowed him into the apartment. He had spent the next years hiding his relationships with men from his mother. His boyfriend’s sister had thankfully accepted to pose as his girlfriend whenever his mother would complain that he was single and, at this rate, she would never be a grandmother. Martín had clenched his jaws, swallowed back the words he knew would lead him back to the streets and had brought Lucia home with him the same night. His mother had been delighted and had stopped pestering him. They had kept the charade for as long as Martín had been with her brother. And after that he had only told his mother that he needed time to recover from his broken heart after Lucia had left him. It had worked until the day he had brought Andrés home. 

His mom had turned crazy at the sight of how he had looked at the tall handsome man beside him. Both men had left. Andrés full of rage and Martín crying his heart out. But Andrés had never left his side, his arm around his shoulders, he had led him back to his hotel room, took care of him when he had thrown up the alcohol he had drunk as if there would be no tomorrow and put him to bed, kissing his brown tenderly. 

When he had woken up the next day, with the worst hangover of his life, Andrés had been sleeping on the other side of the bed. When Martín had finally found the strength to tear his eyes from Andrés’s face, he had realized the room was full of his own belongings. He had learnt later that after he had passed out, Andrés had gone back to his mother’s place and got his clothes and books and that from now on, it would be the two of them together. 

They had started to plan heists together soon after and, after much hesitation, Martín had finally accepted to be part of the actual robbing and not only be the engineer in the shadows. Martín had loved the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins when they would run down a crowded street, their pockets full of diamonds. But what he had loved the most was when Andrés would kiss his cheek happily every time they would get out safe, calling him  _ his beautiful ingeniero _ . He lived for those moments. 

_  
Oh if you are with me  
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid?  
_ _ Oh if you are with me  
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid? _

  
Martín’s arms curled around Andrés’ body, pulling him even closer, basking in the heat he had missed so much all those months he had thought him dead. He was almost sure he heard Andrés purr when he started running his fingers up and down his spine, hating the small bumps he could feel under his fingertips, but happy to be able to touch his lover for the first time in forever. He had been so thin when he had gotten off the boat with Raquel and Sergio. Martín didn’t like to remember those times, but his mind had other plans. 

_  
I have wondered at your sacrifice  
_ _ As I stood at the gates of dawn  
_ _ Just to love one another, that was your advice  
_ _ And it keeps me, it keeps me moving on  _

  
He didn’t remember how or when they had gotten off the boat. All he could remember was the cold left in his body when Nairobi had let go of his hand. He had learnt later that she had left with Helsinki and Martín had been left with Sergio. Sergio, the man who hated him. The man who had tried to get rid of him. To make Andrés leave him behind. Martín had wanted to die. He had wanted to join Andrés and stop hurting so much all the time. But Sergio wouldn’t let him. And Martín had hated him for that. For keeping him alive against his will. 

Images of Andrés sacrificing himself turned in his mind nights and days. He couldn’t stop wondering why. Why he had left him? Why he hadn’t let him die with him? Why? Why? Why? He had started to wake up before dawn – his nights full of nightmares – or not sleep at all. He had been a ghost and Sergio’s eyes had been on him every seconds of every day. He couldn’t take a step without the other man shadowing him, making sure he wouldn’t do something stupid like slice his wrists with a kitchen knife. He almost did it once, but Sergio had stopped him on time. He wanted his soulmate back and no matter how many times Sergio told him that Andrés wouldn’t want him to die, that he loved him so much he would have wanted for him to live his life for both of them. And Martín hadn’t wanted to believe him. Until he did. 

He had dreamed of Andrés one night. It hadn’t been a memory of their time together or of his death, it had been something different. Andrés had told him that he loved him and if Martín loved him back as much as he claimed to, he should live. He should live for them both and do everything they had planned to do together. Martín had woken up crying. But that had been the last time he had tried to take his own life. Andrés had asked him to live so Martín would live. 

A few months later, Sergio had left, sure now that Martín would be okay on his own and had come back a few days later with Raquel, her daughter and mother. At first Martín had been furious. Andrés had given his life to make sure they would escape and Sergio was endangering their freedom by bringing the  _ Inspectora _ to their island. And more selfishly, Martín felt anger at the way Sergio had found his love and was living happily while Martín was hurting so much. 

So Martín had retreated to himself, only letting Paula approach him. The kid had been attracted to him almost like a magnet from the beginning. She was a blessing, trying to make him laugh and not allowing him to brood alone in his room. He loved her for that. 

Then one day, Raquel’s phone had rung. Sergio had made sure it would be untraceable, the Pakistani tech team he had assembled for that sole purpose was as trustworthy as the money he paid them. And Raquel had needed to be reachable. With her daughter and mother with her, she couldn’t disappear from the surface of the planet, someone – probably Paula’s father – was bound to notice if the three of them just vanished. And, that day, Martín’s world had once again crumbled around him. Andrés was alive and they wanted Raquel to come and interrogate him. 

_  
We will stand at the rock together  
_ _ Held fast and ride out this storm  
_ _ We will sing in the rain and windy weather  
_ _ And we will come to no harm  
_ _ We will wash in the love and forgiveness  
_ _ That came with the price that you paid _

  
Raquel had told them she needed time to arrange something for her daughter and mother as she didn’t want them to come back to Spain with her. Adding that they should use that time to put Andrés back together and Martín had wanted to ask what she meant but had been too afraid to voice his fears. He didn’t have to, though. As soon as she had hung up, Raquel had started to explain what she knew about Alicia Sierra and how Andrés would probably be hurt, physically as much as psychologically. She had wanted to make sure that Martín understood that if – when – they got him out, Andrés wouldn’t be the same man he had loved.

When both Raquel and Sergio had been sure Martín understood what they were saying, the three of them had started planning. It took them a week with the help of the Pakistani hackers to find the facility Andrés was held in and the blueprints of the building. After that, the plan had been fairly simple. Raquel would be in charge of the interrogation and Andrés was the only prisoner. Only two guards were inside the building, their shift running for twelve hours, and five other guards outside. 

Sergio had decided to call out to an old friend and, slipping back into his Professor hat, Raquel had become Lisbon and their friend became Marseille. It had been decided that Palermo would stay on the island to keep an eye on Paula and Mariví. And after the worst fight he had ever had with Sergio, Martín had stayed behind. He didn’t even believe them anyway so he could stay behind, it was no big deal, Martín had thought at the time. 

It had taken two weeks for Sergio to come back and Martín had felt like he was dying every single second of those two weeks. He had drunk too much. So much that Paula had started to worry about him. He had assured her that she was okay. But he had been far from it. He needed Andrés back. He needed him back by his side. He needed to listen to him singing his stupid love songs with the dopey expression he loved so much on his face. He needed to hear him laugh and see him dance. And more importantly, he needed him in his arms. 

_  
Oh if you are with me   
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid?  
_ _ Oh if you are with me  
_ _ Of whom shall I be afraid? _

  
In his arms Andrés stirred, his eyes opening and for the first time in months, he didn’t hold his breath at the sensation of arms around him. He didn’t recoil either, quite the contrary, in fact. The moment he saw Martín’s worried face above his, Andrés lips curled in a shadow of a smile and he let his head fall back on Martín’s chest, nosing his nose against his skin, before brushing his lips on the same spot, making Martín gasp in surprise. 

“Andrés?” Martín breathed, not sure what was happening.

But Andrés didn’t reply, his voice still lost to him when it came to speaking. 

“ _ Oh if you are with me, of whom shall I be afraid? _ ” Andrés suddenly hummed under his breath. His voice barely a whisper in the silent room. And Martín felt tears burn at his eyes

They would be okay. It would be a long road until they were back to what they had before the heist – if they ever came close to it – but it was a start. They would take time to heal their wounds and have the rest of their lives to explore the new person they had become after everything they had to live through to get where they were right now. But now, they were together and they had time.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone should be happy in the next one.  
> Thank you for reading and the lovely comments you keep writing. They make my day :D
> 
> If you want to talk, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://histoireeternelle.tumblr.com/)


End file.
